


this lovely charade between us (i want it to be real)

by TocV12



Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, F/F, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff, Humor, Idiots in Love, mutual pining on both sides
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-10-02
Packaged: 2020-11-22 07:55:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20870813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TocV12/pseuds/TocV12
Summary: Allie leans forward, a mischievous gleam in her eyes Tobin really, really doesn’t like. “So if I’m hearing this correctly (the “and I am” goes unsaid), you told your parents you had a serious girlfriend and now they expect you to invite her over for dinner?”Allie pauses, and Tobin gives her a short nod, waiting for the bomb to drop (Allie doesn’t disappoint).“And then you panicked because, let’s remember, you don’t actually have a girlfriend, and now your plan is to ask Christen, poor Christen, who’s dealt with your stupidity for the past decade and hasn’t realized how much of a loser you are, to be your fake girlfriend? Because you’re already madly in love with her anyway?”A slip-up at a family dinner leads to Tobin needing a (fake) girlfriend. And of course, she turns to Christen for help.





	this lovely charade between us (i want it to be real)

As soon as the words leave her mouth, Tobin knows she’s screwed. So,  _ so _ screwed.

And yet, her mouth keeps moving, defiantly forming words she really shouldn’t be saying, and her parents’ eyebrows are climbing higher and higher with every word. 

And then finally, her mouth closes, and she’s left awaiting her parents’ response. Her fingers are drumming the side of her chair, a sign that she’s nervous, because it’s not every day you tell your parents you’ve been in a serious relationship (with a girl) for a while now and do not, in fact, appreciate the numerous attempts to set you up with sons of family friends.

Her mother is the one who breaks the silence first. “So when are we meeting her?”

“Huh?” Because of all the responses Tobin had imagined, most of them were negative, and the ready acceptance of her mother to her rather dramatic outburst was definitely not expected.

“When are we meeting your girlfriend?” 

Tobin blinks in confusion. “Why would you meet my girlfriend?”

To her left, Perry snickers. Her mother merely gives her an exasperated look. “I don’t know, honey, why would we want to meet the girl you’ve supposedly been dating for the past six months?”

“Sarcasm is not a good look on you, mom,” she quips back in an attempt to steer the conversation elsewhere. Her mother is undeterred.

“We need to meet her,” her mother says firmly. “We don’t know anything about her.”

“Wait, yeah, what’s she like?” Katie, her other sister, chimes in. “She must be really nice, especially since she agreed to date you.”

Tobin glares at her sister, who smiles back innocently. “She  _ is _ nice. Really nice.”

“How did you two meet?” Her dad asks, entering the conversation for the first time. Tobin hesitates, because at this point she’s just pulling things out of her ass. “Soccer,” she says, trying to keep it as vague as possible. “We play together.”

“Oh, so you two are on the same team?” Tobin nods immediately before realizing her mistake. Her mother continues. “That’s funny, I thought we’d met all of your teammates before.”

And her family has, so Tobin keeps quiet. There’s a pause, long enough so that she thinks she might actually be let off the hook, and then-

“Bring her around next Saturday for dinner,” her mother tells her, in the no nonsense tone she uses whenever she’s dead serious about something (usually about Tobin not playing soccer indoors and breaking yet another piece of precious furniture).

Still, Tobin opens her mouth to protest, but her mother beats her to it. “6 o’clock sharp. Don’t be late.” And the discussion is over.

Later, when dinner’s done and over with and she’s in the safety of her bedroom, Tobin berates herself for the twentieth time that night and picks up the phone, ready to make a call.

  
“Cheney,” she says as soon as the call begins. “I fucked up.”

“That’s not hard for you to do,” is the reply she gets from her oldest ‘mom’ friend. “What happened this time?”

Tobin sighs, explaining the entire situation to Lauren, who patiently listens in silence, only interjecting once or twice when Tobin’s being too unclear. “What do I do, Chens?”

“Well,” Lauren starts slowly. “I’d say you need to find yourself a girlfriend. Or at least, someone that’s willing to pretend to be your girlfriend for a while.”

“That’s easier said than done,” Tobin grumbles. “Did you forget the part where I said my imaginary girlfriend was on the team with us? And the fact that my mom knows everyone on said team?”

“Okay, that was a bad move on your part,” Lauren replies. “But it’s not the end of the world. Just ask one of the girls if they’d be willing to be pretend girlfriends. I’m sure at least one of them wouldn’t mind.”

“It has to be someone I’m comfortable being around, though.” Tobin frowns. “Or else acting like girlfriends is just going to be awkward, and my parents won’t believe I’m actually dating.”

“To be fair, you  _ aren’t _ dating,” Lauren points out, the faintest trace of amusement present in the way she emphasizes the single word.

“Cheneyyy,” she whines. “You’re supposed to be helping me.”

“Fine,” the other girl relents with a sigh. “Let’s go through all the girls on the team.”

“It can’t be Alex or Allie,” Tobin reluctantly says. “My parents already know they’re straight and definitely not my type.” 

“What about Kelley?” Tobin makes a face, forgetting the other girl can’t see her expressions. “She’d have way too much fun with it. I don’t think I’d be able to face my parents for a week.”

Lauren clicks her tongue. “Mal?” 

“I’m not bringing home a  _ freshman _ ,” Tobin splutters. Lauren chortles. “Sorry, your reaction was just too priceless for me not to suggest it. What about Moe?”

“Perry saw her and her boyfriend together last week at the game.”

Lauren sighs. “I’m guessing from your earlier reaction that underclassmen are out of the picture?”

Tobin gives an “obviously dude, what the fuck” as an answer, and Lauren sighs again. 

“You’re so difficult,” the other girl muses. And then Lauren makes a noise in the back of her throat. “Have you asked Christen?”

“Asked Christen what?” Tobin tries to play dumb, but Lauren knows her better.

“Asked her to be your fake girlfriend.” Impatience laces Lauren’s words.

“Why would I do that?” Tobin curses when her voice wavers slightly, and she knows Lauren heard it.

“Tobin,” Lauren begins. “You’ve known Christen since you two were kids, and she’s your self-proclaimed soulmate. So why haven’t you asked your oldest friend- who’s also incredibly amazing with parents, by the way- to be your girlfriend?”

The fact that Lauren omitted the word “fake” doesn’t go unnoticed by Tobin.

“I don’t know,” she finally admits. And it’s true; she doesn’t know why she hasn’t at least talked to Christen about the whole mess. Doesn’t know why she’d scrolled past Christen’s contact in her phone and pressed on Lauren’s instead. 

(A part of her suspects her unwillingness to ask Christen stems from the way her heart begins to race at the mere mention of the younger girl’s name, a development she has only recently noticed).

Lauren hums but doesn’t press further. “I think you should. It’s believable, and your parents already love Christen. They’d love it if she were your girlfriend.”

Tobin hums before something hits her. “Wait, what do you mean it’s believable?”

  
The sound of Lauren’s laugh floats through her phone. “Don’t worry about it. Anyway, I’ve gotta go work on a psych presentation with Amy. Just text her or give her a call. I’m sure she’ll be fine with it.” 

“Cheney-” Tobin says, but Lauren cuts her off.

“Just talk to her about it, Tobin. Now I really have to go- Amy’s getting annoyed. Love you, bye.”

And with that, Lauren hangs up, leaving Tobin feeling more than a little bit confused, lost, and conflicted.

  
  


Tobin’s favorite thing about Alex’s room is the pair of beanbag chairs carefully positioned in the corner of her room. They’re extremely comfortable, Tobin’s go-to place to collapse in a heap after a particularly hard practice, and they’re easily movable to the lounge area, where Alex and her can spend hours at a time playing the latest version of whatever video game catches their eyes.

Not to mention, the blue beanbag chair (unofficially Tobin’s) is familiar and soothing enough that Tobin can close her eyes, trying her best to ignore the two other girls in the room.

It works for a minute- and then something hits her in the face. Her eyes fly wide open, and she glares at her tormentor. Allie’s sprawled across the other beanbag on the other side of the room, next to Alex’s wardrobe. The second ball of paper in her hand, plus the annoyingly smug grin on her face, tells Tobin the abrupt introduction of her face and the wad of paper currently lying next to her feet was no accident (the snort Alex fails to hold back makes her suspicions even stronger).

Allie raises an eyebrow. “What?” 

“Was that really necessary?” 

“Nope.” Allie grins. “But what else was I supposed to do? You haven’t told us anything yet.”

Alex nods her head in agreement. “You can’t just ask for an emergency meeting and not say anything. I was planning on finding a new show on Netflix to binge.”

Tobin sighs deeply, checking to see if the door is firmly shut (because the last thing she needs is someone to walk in and overhear a conversation Allie and Alex are probably going to make as embarrassing for her as possible). And then she starts talking, aware of the two pairs of expectant eyes trained on her face the entire time.

It takes her longer than it should have to fully explain the situation to Allie and Alex- mostly due to Allie’s frequent (and unnecessary) interruptions - “You  _ what _ , Harry?”- but also because Tobin waits until the very last minute to finally mention Christen’s name. And then, when she does, it’s uttered so quickly that she hopes neither Allie nor Alex managed to hear (spoiler: she’s not in luck).

Tobin finishes with a rather sheepish “so yeah,” slumping even further into her beanbag chair, waiting for a response.

Allie leans forward, a mischievous gleam in her eyes Tobin really, really doesn’t like. “So if I’m hearing this correctly (the “and I am” goes unsaid), you told your parents you had a serious girlfriend and now they expect you to invite her over for dinner?” 

Allie pauses, and Tobin gives her a short nod, waiting for the bomb to drop (Allie doesn’t disappoint).

“And then you panicked because, let’s remember, you don’t actually  _ have _ a girlfriend, and now your plan is to ask Christen, poor Christen, who’s dealt with your stupidity for the past decade and hasn’t realized how much of a loser you are, to be your fake girlfriend? Because you’re already madly in love with her anyway?”

The worst part about it all is that Tobin can’t even disagree, because Allie’s basically summed up the entire situation. Minus the being in love with Christen part, of course. She doesn’t have any idea where that came from (doesn’t really want to think about it, either).

“I hate you,” she manages to grumble out, closing her eyes when she hears Alex snicker and the unmistakable sound of Allie and Alex (her two self-proclaimed best friends who are  _ not  _ helping her at all) exchanging a high five. “At least tell me it’s a decent plan.”

“Oh, Harry,” Allie begins, and even with her eyes closed, Tobin can see the smirk on her friend’s face. “I’ve known you for years, and I can tell you right now your idea is the worst one you’ve ever had. Even worse than the locker room surprise back in freshman year.” 

Another pause. “But it’s good entertainment for me and Al, and there’s a high chance you’ll fuck up and embarass yourself, so I fully support it.” 

“Just wait until Christen finds out,” Alex adds, and Tobin lets out a groan, because that is one conversation she does  _ not _ want to have.

But that’s also the one conversation she  _ has  _ to have, so she grabs her phone and fires off a short “can we talk? I need help” text to Christen before dropping her phone and collapsing backwards onto Alex’s very comfortable bed, muttering a quiet “fuck it” that Allie still manages to overhear.

“Harry!” The blonde cries indignantly. “Save that for Christen!” 

Tobin reaches backwards blindly, grabbing a pillow and hurling it in the direction of Allie’s voice, humming in satisfaction when she hears a loud shriek.

  
Christen takes it relatively well.

Surprisingly well, in fact, and Tobin narrows her eyes suspiciously. “Okay?” She repeats Christen’s simple response.

Christen shrugs. “It’s not that big of a deal right? I don’t mind.”

“You’re not surprised? At all?” Christen shrugs again.

Tobin continues to stare at the younger girl disbelievingly, until Christen lowers her head.

“Okay, Allie might’ve told me yesterday,” Christen admits, and seriously, Tobin’s about to kill her blond friend. 

“So I’ve had plenty of time thinking about this, and really, I wouldn’t mind.” With that, Christen smiles, and Tobin’s heart skips a beat (she blames it on her earlier coffee run- stupid caffeine). Her face feels warm, and she looks away.

“It’s not going to be easy,” Tobin warns, summoning enough willpower to meet Christen’s gaze again. And it’s probably not good that she does, because Christen’s staring determinedly at her, biting her lip and narrowing her eyes in a way that tells Tobin she’s committing fully to whatever this incredibly stupid plan is and there’s nothing in the world Tobin can do to make her change her mind.

“I know it won’t, but it also won’t be impossible,” Christen tells her. “And besides, I already know your family, and I’m pretty sure they love me already.” The younger girl smirks at her, and Tobin rolls her eyes.

“You say that like you don’t know my mom loves you more than she loves me,” she grumbles. Christen shrugs in a “what can I do” manner. 

“Right, so she’ll love me even more as your girlfriend.” Again, Tobin’s heart skips a beat. 

_ Yeah, and that’s part of the problem. _

She ignores the voice in her head. “You might be stuck with me for a while- it might be a few months before we can stage a fake break-up without making my parents suspicious.” There’s a pause, and Tobin watches as Christen narrows her eyes thoughtfully.

“At this point, I feel like you’re just trying to come up with excuses for me to not be your girlfriend.” Christen accompanies her words with a pout, followed by a teasing grin.

“Of course not,” Tobin rushes to say, not knowing why she’s suddenly all flustered. The back of her neck feels suspiciously warm. “I just don’t want to drag you into my mess without you knowing everything.”

Christen’s eyes soften, and she steps forward, closing the distance between them with a few decisive strides. 

“Come here, you,” Christen says, pulling Tobin into a hug, one she gladly reciprocates. The feeling of Christen’s arms around her and the familiar scent of the perfume Christen wears make Tobin feel at home despite her racing pulse, and she closes her eyes.

It’s a good thing she does, because suddenly Christen shifts, and now her lips are mere millimeters away from Tobin’s ear, moving as they form words Tobin’s only half-hearing.

“You’re not making me do anything I’m not okay with doing. Stop worrying.” Tobin shudders slightly. She’s sure that any movement on her part will result in Christen’s lips meeting her skin. 

“Okay,” she manages to squeak, prompting a not at all hidden giggle from the younger girl. Christen pulls back, releasing Tobin from her hold (Tobin would be lying if she wasn’t disappointed).

“Okay,” Christen repeats, her striking eyes trained on Tobin. “Then we’re good to go.”

“Really? Just like that?” Tobin blurts out, immediately berating herself for being so impulsive. Christen’s eyes dance in amusement.

“Just like that,” she says lightly before pausing. “Well, obviously we have to work out some logistics like how we got together and stuff, but we can do all that later.”    
  
Christen smirks at Tobin. “Now if I remember correctly, someone promised to buy me dinner tonight at practice yesterday.”

Tobin laughs. “Fine. Let me grab my keys and we can go.”

Thirty minutes later, they’re seated in a cozy booth in their favorite Italian restaurant, and when Christen reaches under the table for her hand sometime after they agree to share a dessert (the sort of sugary sweet delight their coach would definitely kill them for eating if she ever found out), Tobin smiles, feeling like she’s on cloud nine.

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think!


End file.
